Who's Laughing Now?
by lydia the eleventh
Summary: OneShot. PostDMC. James Norrington reflects, and dares those who have scorned him to laugh at him now. Mildly angsty, ironic, and snarky.


_(Author's Notes – Oh, dear, Brokenspar's taken to writing angst again. _

_This is intended as a post – DMC oneshot of what might be running through James Norrington's thoughts, on learning (or being misinformed) of the fate of the _Black Pearl_. Hopefully Norrington's sense of irony and snark shines through._

_Those of you who read my Laura Bell story, I have the next update … it will be up within the week!)_

**Who's Laughing Now?**

Go ahead. I dare you to do it. Laugh. Laugh, if you can.

Laugh at me, Admiral James Norrington.

You've laughed at my expense so many times before, I find it curious that you should have difficulty now. Curious, certainly, but hardly un-amusing from my viewpoint.

You can't, that must be it.

You, Jack Sparrow – _Captain_ Jack Sparrow – are somewhere at the mercy of Davy Jones, if not dead by that overgrown squid. You, William Turner, and you, Elizabeth Swann, share his fate.

The three of you, since you entered my sorry existence, have laughed and scoffed at me. You tried me, broke my will, my life, and my heart. You left me in the nightmare of broken dreams and sludge of reality, and laughed over a pint of rum. You laughed.

Funny, wasn't it? Absolutely, gut-wrenchingly hilarious.

I mean, it's not like I actually had the emotional capacity to care. Someone like who I used to be couldn't care beneath all that brocade and white powder. He couldn't have had a mind and heart of his own, right?

So it was a jolly laugh when, like heartless children, you smashed apart the automaton, played with his gears, and left for new game.

Well, you never expected me to pick up the pieces. You certainly never expected me to get my revenge – no, no matter how much you wounded me or tried my patience and generosity, you always expected me to play the gentleman. When you broke me, I'm afraid I lost that part. And I have no intention of regaining it.

I stole the heart, Sparrow. That was me, James Norrington, the man you broke. It was my dearest wish to see the look on your stupid face when you realized the heart was gone, and it was James Norrington, your shattered, rum-pot deckhand, who'd stolen it to save his own life.

You thought I was just stealing the heart to save my honor, you fool. Did you forget that the noose awaited me as well?

All that is immaterial now.

Why?

I came out on top, Sparrow, Turner, and Swann.

I won.

Who's laughing now?

I am.

Rear-Admiral of the Blue Sir James Norrington, of the Royal Navy. The Scourge of the Caribbean.

I'm laughing, for this side of the grave. You might have had the first laugh at my expense, and perhaps the jolliest, but my laugh will be the last and the longest.

I am laughing now, and will be for the rest of eternity. When I meet you three in Hell, as I burn in the sulfurous fires and take tortuous whippings from the demons of the pit, I will be laughing. Even when they break me and throw me to Lucifer himself, I will be laughing. I will be laughing at you through my eternal agony. That's it. I will be laughing at you for all of eternity.

There isn't anything you can do that can touch me now.

Why?

You're dead, for one, and I find it terribly funny to return the courtesy of not giving a damn about your collected demises.

And even if you weren't, you couldn't touch me anyway.

Jack Sparrow, you could run across the Seven Seas on your beloved, worm-eaten _Black Pearl_, but you would never escape the newly built HMS _Peregrine_.

William Turner, you could parry and counterstrike for ages, but you would find, at the opportune moment, I would have no compunctions in shooting you through your love-struck heart.

Elizabeth Swann, you could flirt with me forever, but you would never capture my love again, for my heart is gone.

When you break an automaton, you create a man. And when you break a man, you create an automaton.

Perhaps that is why this whole mess is so funny – I am heartless.

Perhaps I am laughing because there is nothing else for me to do - beholden, indebted to Beckett for my title, my ship, and my life.

Perhaps I'm laughing because if I didn't, I would cry.

But the fact remains that I am laughing – at you, Jack Sparrow; at you, William Turner; at you, Elizabeth Swann; and, dare I say it, at you, Fate.

I hope Hell is amusing. And I hope you reserve me my rightful seat – in the deepest circle.

_Who's laughing now?_

I am, and it is a bitter, empty laugh.


End file.
